23 comments:

hmmm - i don't think i'd mind slipping in there and smokin a little "tea" or am i thinking about the wrong kind of tea but there's enough houses so you could take your pick. it's nice to see these little details that were so often lost over the years preserved. now don't be koi with me.

security word def - "kershi" - a small town in pennsylvania famous for its candy dogs.

leaving this comment here rather than at the end of 48 others. in addition to jen ross's sensitive treatment, i find some consolation in the Dorothy Parker quote in the Observer article re:King Kong. that one will keep me laughing for quite some time.One more slam and that's for that dimwitted reporter following the devil around on the CBS video. not exactly BBC level investigative journalism as in "And Mr. B, how did this pristinely kept mansion get so run down under your ownership?" instead she just gawked and nodded like a 3 year old. Candy, little girl?

Security word def - "sclan" - a text word referring to almost any real estate deal on Long Island (and in Maine for that matter)

In the enlarged photo you can easily see this pool cabana has the astrological male symbol on the door; which is much nicer than if they had used the international male symbol you see at the airport. I think we shouldn’t be surprised that a grand old estate like ‘Erchless’ has not gone unisex. I wonder how different the interiors are?

Kiddies, in my day "tea houses" were something entirely different (although most did come with a "pool boy")...hmmm.

Make of it what you will.

I've always loved driving by Erchless, even though it's mostly obscured from the road ––– just knowing those lovingly manicured acres lie just beyond view are fair comfort indeed. The gardens' true beauty lie in their simplicity.

Off subject...but I was driving down Post today on my way to Coe Hall and passed Knole with the missing gates....my heart instantly ripped too pieces.

I'm trying to pinpoint what it is, or what mythic quality it conjure's in me as to why I take it so desperately to heart when one of these homes are demolished, sub-divided or altered....maybe it's a feeling that we've become a total disposable culture....everything is faux and not meant to last.... we destroy true art and craftsmanship in place of cheap mass-produced rubbish.....I'm not sure what I'm trying to say...had one too many wines and find myself longing for a past I never lived....and possibly is much romanticized.

For me it's always been the allure of association ––– of being just a little bit closer, or a little more "in-the-know" about an event in our social history that is common knowledge outside of our own little world, i.e., the great unwashed. That people and events well known to many are somehow more intimate details for us cognoscenti.

All the architectural minutiae, amusing social mores and scandalous couplings & recouplings are more than just the window dressing, but somehow less than the trappings of history.

"The night Ann shot Billy? Goodness, I never dreamt they'd even make it home alive! You know how aggressive he always got behind the wheel of that Studebaker with the custom Cadillac engine he was always boasting about ––– and, as you well know, when it rains Berry Hill Road can be very, very treacherous..."

Or some such scenario.

Security word - qualog: homemade horse tranquilizer usually cooked up in double-wides deep in the New England backwoods.

I don't think that's it....I'm not very interested in the personal stories of the people that lived in these homes...nor am I impressed or entertained by the more scandalous intrigues. For me, its all about the architecture...the details....the gardens and statuary....the art and furnishings...it's the loss of those things that leaves me feeling very empty...

For some of certain faiths, today represents renewal, and the promise of new life.

Brought to you courtesy of Planting Fields Arboretum, Mussorgsky's "Promenade" from his Pictures At An Exhibition, and my trusty Nikon (with a little help from Mother Nature), I offer a brief respite from all the Lands End mishegoss (see how I cleverly weaseled in that interfaith political-correctness?)

Laura - not to be politically incorrect here but don't women know anything about cars - there is no such thing as a 54 T-bird. the first was built in 55.

Anon - you sound depressed by the loss of those gates. i think you and LGB should get together and chug-a-lug a couple pints of this fine vintage qualog i'm sending you. mmm-mmm good. Betty Lou and I will drive in down in the Studillac or perhaps my new Studamino (that's my truck to you city boys)

security word def - "chorpin" - what ahm goin to hit you brats with if'n you don't get to work. or a little known composer famous for incorporating bird calls (live) into his compositions. Sadly, deceased when carried off by a condor.